


The New Old Fashioned Way

by Crockzilla



Series: Domesti-Kink with Spideypool [24]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cock Warming, Crying, D/s, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Figging, Impact Play, Kinda?, Love, M/M, Role-Playing Game, Romance, Spanking, Surprises, corner time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 13:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13191360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crockzilla/pseuds/Crockzilla
Summary: Wade gives Peter multiple chances to be good. It's almost like he wants to be punished.*giggles*





	The New Old Fashioned Way

**Author's Note:**

> This is vignette 10 of 12 of notlucy and my We Wish You A Merry Kinkmas!
> 
> You don't need to read the whole series to enjoy this one -- just know that Peter and Wade are at a cabin for the holidays with the WW3some, Pepperony, and several additional Avengers.
> 
> But if you WANT to catch up, you can read this whole holiday series starting with Way Up North Where The Air Gets Cold, and notlucy's Brownstone in Brooklyn, and my Domesti-Kink.
> 
> This one is NAUGHTY.

Peter sat heavily down on the super comfy couch and pulled Wade into his lap. Being Little for Xmas Eve and Day had been awesome, but it was kind of a relief that everybody was Big again. He felt bad that Clint and Nat and Sam had missed Little time, but they seemed pretty entertained by Charade-okey.

Peter fed Wade a slice of couronne as they watched drunk!Tony (who, unlike Peter and Bucky, was _not_ impervious to the effects of the flaming shots they had just downed on the patio) as he tried to act out “the Internet” while singing “Heart of Glass.”

Peter was pretty sure that Pepper had somehow gotten the concept her partner was trying to convey to her several minutes ago, but like everyone else, she was laughing too hard to speak. Peter was somewhat distracted by the way Wade was licking stray marzipan off of his fingers.

“You know,” he purred into his guy’s ear, “being Little so much, I haven’t had the chance to do anything bad in a while.”

Wade turned his head to give him a cool look. “Bad, you say?”

“Yeah,” Peter grinned, intrigued by his love’s chill demeanor (which almost always meant he’d been plotting), “something that would require you to, say, discipline me.”

Wade just raised an eyebrow at him (or the area of his face that would have an eyebrow if he had eyebrows). “Careful what you wish for, baby cakes. Ol’ Steve was a bad boy, and he’s getting taken out to the wood shed in the morning.”

Peter’s mouth fell open, both from the swoop of arousal in his stomach and from the fact that Wade knew this and was telling him this. “Peggy put a switch and coal in his stocking,” Wade said as if reading his mind, “so it’s not like it isn’t public knowledge, you guys were just too busy with your Giant Play Set of Doom to notice.”

“Wood shed?” Peter repeated a little breathlessly. Did he mean that weird open stable thing out behind the cabin?

“Yep,” Wade confirmed, turning fully to face him. “She’s taking him out there early-early tomorrow morning. Like 4am. For privacy. So you’d better stay in bed, Little Spidey -- don’t let me catch you trying to eavesdrop.”

Ah – there it was. Peter bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud, and Wade’s cool façade slipped a little. “Oh,” he said when he could talk again, “okay.”

“What’s that?” Wade asked, having recovered his Dom attitude.

“Yes, sir.”

Wade kissed him on the forehead. “Good boy.”

Soon, Natasha and Bucky were winning Charade-okey by a pretty big margin (Why did they both know all the lyrics to Rock Me Amadeus? It didn’t seem fair), and it was getting late, so everyone retired to their various sleeping areas. Unlike the first couple of nights they’d been in the cabin, “going to bed” wasn’t immediately followed by flagrant sex noises coming from every bedroom, probably out of respect for their three guests who were camped out downstairs by the tree, but also because at least a few of them needed their rest for the next day.

*~*~*

Peter had woken up at exactly four o’clock, but he lay in bed waiting, listening with his Spidey-hearing as someone in the other bedroom got up, got dressed, and then got someone else up and – kind of dressed? He heard Steve let out a distinct yelp of pain, and his insides burned with jealousy as well as anticipation.

He waited until he heard Peggy and Steve go downstairs, then crept out of bed himself (was he supposed to wake Wade up? Surely part of the game was to sneak out) and snuck downstairs, opting to use the ceiling to avoid squeaky floorboards.

It was one-hundred-percent dark and friggin’ cold outside at four in the morning in December in upstate New York. Not totally unexpected, but the reality was still pretty intense.

Peter used his heightened senses to follow Peggy and Steve’s path to the woodshed, where he could kind of make out the glow of a lamp, though the shed faced away from the cabin. He wished he’d brought a flashlight, but he probably wouldn’t have used it for fear of interrupting Steve and Peggy, because while Peggy had obviously told Wade what time this was happening, they were almost certainly not invited to this particular party.

Peter slid along the edge of the woods as quietly as he could, which was very quietly indeed. Surely Wade would come find him soon. He still had a ways to go to get to the wood shed, but he really didn’t want to actually creep on their friends. He was considering turning back (maybe he had been supposed to wake Wade up?) when he heard a sound – a very happy yet strained sound – come from the wood shed.

Peter instinctively hid behind a tree. That had to mean Peggy and Steve were getting started. He should probably go. Another sound, this time a distinct whacking sound coupled with a moan – Peter stayed right where he was. Good night, what was she using on him? It didn’t sound like a belt or a hand or even a flogger, which was pretty much the extent of what Peter was personally familiar with…

 “Aw, a little spider lost in the woods.”

Peter nearly yelped out loud, whirling around to see Wade right behind him, grinning in the dark.

“Oh, did I scare you?” Wade asked, closing the distance between them, his voice dangerously smooth. “Did you not expect anyone to find you spying on our friends?”

Heart-rate calmed, Peter quickly jumped into the game. “I wasn’t spying –“

“Oh, really?” Wade said, crossing his arms. “So what are you doing out here?”

“I was,” Peter looked around at the dark wood for inspiration, “gathering…berries…for breakfast?”

Wade laughed at the feeble excuse. “I think you’re doing exactly what I told you not to do. Isn’t that it?”

Peter looked at the snowy ground and shifted his weight, doing his best to look ashamed (which was difficult with how hard he already was just from getting caught and scolded). “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

 _Oof,_ yeah, hard as a rock. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s what I thought. C’mere.”

Wade took hold of his elbow, propped one boot up on a nearby stump, and expertly tipped Peter over his now-raised knee, wrapping an arm firmly around his waist.

Peter’s entire nervous system sang as it processed what was happening, the new twist on a familiar position, the excitement of being immediately punished for being bad, the environment – Wade was going to beat his ass in a freezing cold, dark wood. _Yes yes yes._

A moan escaped him with the first smack, hard and right in the center of his ass, right where the sensation would go directly to his cock which was already excitedly pressing against Wade’s muscled thigh. Oh shit – it was so cold, what would it be like when Wade inevitably took his pants off? He willed his masochistic self to be patient and enjoy the warm up, the humiliation of having this done to him with their friends so close by, as Wade landed five more hard spanks in the same perfect spot.

And then – he stood him up.

“There now,” Wade said, cheerfully. “I’m sorry I had to do that, but you kind of forced my hand, cutie.”

Peter blinked. “Is that – it?”

“Yep,” Wade took his hand and started pulling him back towards the cabin.

“But,” Peter fumbled, not sure where the game was going now, “I disobeyed you?”

“I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson,” Wade grinned at him over his shoulder. “But you’d better not try to sneak out again.”

Oh. _Oh._ Wade was going to make him work for this one.

*~*~*

“Now – why are you standing in the corner?”

Peter rolled his eyes at the corner he was facing. He’d immediately tried to sneak back outside again while Wade was getting coffee, but instead of the swift and brutal punishment he’d been hoping for, he’d been placed here to wait. And then Bucky had wandered downstairs, no doubt drawn by the coffee aroma.

“I’m in trouble _,_ ” Peter hissed as quietly as he could.

“Yeah, I gathered,” Bucky snickered, sipping his coffee. “What are you in trouble for?”

Peter felt his face go hot, which made Bucky snicker even more from his comfy spot on the couch, which he’d acquired by shoving up the feet of a sleeping Clint. Sam was still passed out on the other couch, and Natasha’s sleeping bag (because couches were, evidently, for the weak) was neatly rolled up as she had already left on her morning run.

Granted, Wade had given him an out from having his corner-time in the living room, but Peter really didn’t see the point in being shy about something so innocuous compared to what they’d all heard happening in each other’s bedrooms over the past few days. And anyway, there was something about being on display in the living room, fully clothed, with people kind of knowing what was going to happen to him soon, that made it even more difficult to keep Spidey Junior under control.

“Good morning! What’s -- ?” Peter heard Pepper’s voice come into the living room and did everyone wake up at five in the morning these days?

“Peter’s in trouble,” Bucky filled her in.

Peter glanced at Pepper in his peripheral vision to see her expression go from confused to amused. “Oh, like grown up trouble?”

“Yeah,” Bucky giggled.

“Aw, how fun.”

Peter heard Clint suddenly snerffle awake. There was a pause, then an excited gasp. “Are we Little again?”

“No,” Bucky said, helpfully, “Peter’s in grown up trouble.”

“Oh,” he heard Clint’s sad reply, then shuffling as he turned his face into the back of the couch and almost immediately began snoring.

Peter rested his forehead against the wall. He was pretty sure his entire body was blushing at this point. “Bucky, have I told you lately that I hate you?”

“I know you’re not talking during corner time, Peter Benjamin.”

Wade’s voice (and the use of his middle name) sent a thrill of fear through his entire person, and Peter straightened up immediately. He heard Wade join Pepper and Bucky on the couch (and heard Clint snerffle indignantly as his bed was invaded further), chatting with them about their plans for the day, drinking their coffee as if everything was perfectly normal and Peter wasn’t standing in the corner fighting off a massive erection.

“Okay, sweet cheeks,” Wade said finally, standing from the couch, “come with me.”

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin with excitement as he followed Wade out of the living room and up the stairs, quickly returning the two little waves of encouragement that he got from Bucky and Pepper.

Wade reached a hand back without looking at him as they ascended, and he took it instantly, the contact zinging with electricity just like it always had. He wondered if it was weird to get all nostalgic and romantical right before getting your ass beaten.

Wade drew him into their bedroom and turned to consider him, coffee mug still in his hand. Peter concentrated on breathing.

“I want you,” Wade said in his Dom voice, “to go down to the Xmas tree, cut a switch off of it, and bring it back up here to me.”

Peter blinked. He watched Wade smirk and knew that Wade knew he was swallowing a million sassy, impatient retorts. He nodded and turned to go back downstairs.

“And it’d better be nice and stingy,” Wade called after him. Peter did not flip him off over his shoulder because he was an excellent sub.

*~*~*

Cutting a switch from an evergreen tree was fucking impossible.

Peter sawed at the branch with the poultry sheers Pepper had retrieved from the kitchen for him. Bucky had evidently gone back to bed to fulfill his part of Peggy and Steve’s activity, which Peter was glad for because he was not sure he could handle the intermittent snickering and this tree.

“Fifteen,” Natasha muttered between sips of coffee, watching him closely, “forty-seven--”

“No way!” Peter protested.

Natasha shrugged, gesturing at the evergreen needles accumulating on the ground. “You definitely shook off thirty-two at once just then.”

“But you don’t need to tell Wade how many needles I’m getting on the carpet,” Peter insisted.

“I don’t need to, but I’m going to,” she said with a smirk, and it was a good thing she still had her hair in those adorable plaits with fuzzy blue hair ties or Peter might have been slightly irritated with her.

“Okay,” Peter huffed as he pulled the switch free, careful not to disturb any of the other decorated limbs, “now I guess just clip these little branches?”

“Yeah, that should work, right?” Pepper suggested as she placed the ornaments from the now detached branch elsewhere on the tree.

Peter quickly snipped the smaller branches off of the main body of the switch, the thought of how each little stub he was leaving would feel on his skin in the near future floating across his mind. When he’d finished, he experimentally swished the bare branch back and forth. It made an exciting “swoosh” sound that, to him, promised stinginess. He looked to Pepper and Nat, who both nodded, impressed.

At that very moment, a half-asleep Tony wandered into the living room, saw Peter swishing the branch back and forth, and immediately turned back around to return to his bedroom, muttering something about “Jesus H.” Sam, who as it turned out had only been pretending to sleep, snickered into the couch cushion.

“I’ll see that he gets back to bed,” Pepper offered, following Tony up the stairs.

“I got this,” Nat waved him away when he started picking up the tree debris from the carpet, “you go have fun.”

Aw. Peter kissed her on the cheek before running back upstairs with his switch.

*~*~*

“Mm nm mm-nm?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, sugar,” Wade instructed before gently pulling Peter’s head back by the hair.

“Is that ginger?” Peter asked quickly before Wade pushed his head forward, once again filling his mouth with his cock.

“Yep,” Wade informed, holding up the bit of root he was carefully carving with a small knife.

Peter laved his tongue against Wade’s shaft, trying to get some kind of reaction, but Wade continued to sit calmly on the edge of the bed, taking his sweet time cutting a notch around the end of the ginger root.

Peter shifted on his knees – he was pretty sure he knew where that was going, based on the shape Wade was sculpting it into, but he was not sure why. He squeezed Wade’s big strong thigh with one hand, the other wrapped around Wade’s cock (which was impressively hard considering all of his focus seemed to be elsewhere). Part of him wanted so badly to hurry this the fuck up, but another, wiser part of his brain enjoined him to be patient as the sharp smell of the ginger filled his sinuses.

“All righty-roo,” Wade said cheerfully when he was satisfied with his work. “Let’s see that switch, cutie-pie.”

Peter released Wade’s cock, working his sore jaw a bit, and stood, going over to the dresser where Wade had placed the switch earlier after declaring it exceptionally stingy. He picked up the slender branch and then came to stand back in front of his guy, holding the implement out to him, trying his best to look guilty and fearful.

“Thank you,” Wade said, and for some reason the polite formality made Peter’s heart thrum even harder in his chest. Wade brought the branch down on his own palm a couple of times.

“So,” he said, looking at the switch instead of Peter, “what did I tell you to do?”

 “You told me to stay in bed and not go outside to eavesdrop on Steve and Peggy in the woodshed.”

“And what did you do?” Wade asked, finally looking at him with an impressively stern expression.

Peter swallowed. “I got out of bed and went outside to eavesdrop on Steve and Peggy in the woodshed.”

“And when I caught you, you tried to lie about it,” Wade reminded. “Right?”

Peter nodded, feeling something of the burn in his chest that accompanied having actually done something wrong and getting in trouble for it. Ooh, Wade might actually get him to cry over this one.

“And then,” Wade pressed, tipping Peter’s chin up with one finger to look him in the eyes, “when I gave you a second chance, you tried to sneak out again. It’s like you _want_ me to have to spank you.”

Peter felt his face go hot for the eightieth time that morning. “And I talked during corner time,” he reminded.

He saw Wade bite his lip to keep from smiling at that. “That’s right. Good boy, being honest. Let’s get started.”

Wade tapped his hip with the switch, indicating that he should remove his jeans, which he did as quickly as he could while still maintaining some illusion of dread. The way his cock sprung up once free of its denim prison was more than enough to indicate to Wade how very, very into this game he was, but Wade continued watching dispassionately, helping him keep his balance as he kicked his jeans to the side.

“C’mere,” Wade instructed, laying the switch on the bed and patting his own knee. Peter expertly lay down across his lap, making sure his very erect cock was pressed flush against Wade’s thigh as Wade’s big, strong arm wrapped around his middle, holding him securely in place, and sometimes Peter wished he could freeze this moment and all the wonderful, dizzying anticipation, the feeling of being helpless and exposed and totally at his guy’s mercy.

“Hold still, now.”

Wade landed the first ten in exactly the same place, right across the sweet spot where each smack went straight to the nerve bundles at his center, and Peter marveled not for the first time at how perfect Wade was at this. It was even more difficult than normal to stay still due to all the delicious build up, but Peter managed it, only letting out little whimpers.

“Good boy,” Wade purred, rough fingers sliding Peter’s underwear down his legs, “I’m gonna warm you up, and you’d better get all your shakes and shimmies out now.”

Peter imagined that had something to do with the switch and the ginger, so he took the warning to heart and twisted and squirmed with abandon as Wade started raining down hard-ish smacks on his ass and thighs.

This “warm up” sure felt like a main event, Peter thought as he pulled against the iron-like arm holding him against Wade’s stomach, small grunts and cries escaping him as Wade’s big hand spanked all over every inch of his exposed skin. It stung badly, and he started kicking and bucking in earnest, not wanting to actually be let go, but needing to move to deal with the increasing intensity.

Just as Peter was getting near pleading-and-yelling territory, Wade’s hand stopped spanking and rubbed firmly all over the skin of his ass and thighs, skin that was almost certainly warm and pink and he wished that the giant bathroom mirror was visible so that he could see Wade’s hands making white imprints in red skin.

“How you doing, baby?” Wade asked, leaning over him in a way that was more comforting than it had a right to be. “Are you sorry yet?”

Peter nodded, craning his neck so he could kind of see Wade’s face. “Yes, sir.”

“How sorry?”

Peter nearly giggled as Wade raised an eyebrow at him, drumming his fingers on his thoroughly-spanked ass. “Well – not _that_ sorry, I guess.”

Wade didn’t bother hiding his grin. “Good – because now I’m going to make you very sorry _and_ make sure you always remember what happens when you don’t do what I say.”

Wade scooped him up and placed him face down on the bed, carefully arranging his t-shirt just above his ass (why was it so strangely hot to still have one article of clothing on?) He picked up a pillow from the head of the bed, and Peter didn’t need to be told to lift up so that Wade could slide it under his hips.

His ass pushed out by the pillow, cock pressing into the downy cushion, Peter’s pulse quickened as he watched his giant man pick up the little plug of ginger he’d cut so carefully and felt fingers hold his ass cheeks apart. “Not a good idea to use lube for this,” he heard Wade explain, “so deep breath.”

Peter nearly rolled his eyes because the plug was tiny, but he indulged his beloved by taking in a breath and exhaling steadily as Wade pushed the cold, semi-wet little nub into his hole until it popped through the first ring of muscle. He felt Wade tug on it a bit to make sure it was snug in place, and even though it was so small the feeling sent a thrill of electricity through him – Peter _loved_ having his ass played with, or maybe he just loved _Wade_ playing with his ass, even if the ginger still made no sense to him.

“Now, Peter,” Wade said as he picked up the switch, getting Peter’s full attention with the use of his actual name instead of one of his many sweet pet names, “you need to hold absolutely still while I do this because I have to aim. If you move, we have to start all over, as in going back outside, corner time, cut another switch, the whole shebang.”

Whoa. Serious. Peter made sure he made eye contact before nodding to let his love know that he heard him, that he’d try his best. Wade rewarded him with a pat on his stingy, red ass.  

“Good boy,” he said, swinging the switch to make a hissing sound through the air. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but if you’re going to spy on our octogenarian friends, you’re gonna get punished like it’s 1932. Ready?”

Peter whimpered by way of response, suddenly realizing he had no idea what that switch was going to feel like. Wade took that as a “yes” and brought the slender, supple branch down right across the middle of his ass.

It stung _–_ that was what the switch was going to feel like, turned out. It stung like a motherfucker, in fact. It was a totally different sensation than a hand or a belt, or even a flogger, and Wade rubbed his fingers along the stinging line, giving Peter a moment to process this new feeling because his guy was truly the best dom to ever live.

Peter had a second to prepare, clenching his ass cheeks around the ginger plug before the switch came down again in a line just a bit lower than the first, and it really wasn’t that bad, in fact the sharpness was kind of wonderful.

And then Peter felt an extremely strange sensation, not where the switch had hit him, but – inside, a sort of coldness that seemed to spread from his asshole and into the surrounding flesh.

His eyes went wide as he realized what the ginger was for.

Wade laughed softly, clearly having seen his reaction. “This is called figging, sweet pea. Every time you clench your ass, ginger juice will squeeze out into your tender little hole,” he circled a finger around the puckered muscle encasing the ginger, making Peter jump a bit. “And it burns _._ So – don’t clench.”

Don’t _clench?_

Peter sucked in his breath as Wade surprised him with another stroke of the switch, and he clenched his ass because of course he did because he was getting hit with a _switch._

Sure enough, the warming sensation in his asshole increased, and he groaned, squirming as if he could somehow get away from the discomfort. He felt a big, warm hand on his back. “Stay still, you,” Wade said, sternly, before the switch sung through the air again and landed across his thighs.

Peter yelped in earnest and, once again, clenched his motherfucking ass because he evidently had zero control over those particular muscles. He buried his face in the bedspread, growling in frustration, willing his foggy brain to get a grip even as another stroke landed, back on the meaty part of his cheeks, and he didn’t clench as much but he still clenched and it still felt like there were wasps in his ass.

Two more strokes and he was not going to use his colors or tap out. He had never done that, and he wasn’t about to now that Wade was clearly trying to accommodate his desire for heavier impact play, but it hurt and he couldn’t think.

Gentle, familiar fingers combed through his hair. “You’re doing so good, cutie,” Wade purred to him, “so good for me.”

Peter felt his brain waves smooth out. He breathed in, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of fingers on his scalp, the feeling of the little nub of ginger tucked in his ass and the heat coming from it, the feeling of each individual line that the switch had cut across his skin. _Wade._

He barely registered the fingers leaving his hair because his mind had slid into that good, deep, slow-motion place. The next stroke of the switch made him cry out, and he clenched, but then with the next stroke he gave up worrying about that because he just couldn’t process the pain and the frustration and also stay still like he’d been told to do.

He dug his fingers into the bedspread and tried _so_ hard not to squirm with the next three strokes, and his brain started buzzing again, but this time he wasn’t afraid he’d tap out – instead his breath started to hitch. His ass flexed involuntarily against the ginger and he felt it burn him even more, and it _hurt_ , and something inside of his chest loosened.

“Shh,” he felt Wade’s hand on his back, comforting, then on his head, coaxing him to turn it to the side so he could see, and Peter let him. The expression on his dacryphiliac’s face when he saw him made Peter almost laugh in spite of the tears he could feel streaming down his nose.

“Oh, honey – you’re so pretty. Do you want to see how pretty you are?”

Peter sniffled and nodded. Wade pulled his phone from somewhere, held it up over Peter’s ass and thighs, took a quick picture, and then brought it up to Peter’s face for him to see.

Neat, thin red lines crisscrossed his skin. He thought his asshole should be glowing or something based on how it felt, but there was only an innocuous-looking little nub of ginger stuck inside of him.

“See?” Wade purred, and Peter had to agree – it was a pretty sight.

Wade kissed him on the temple, wiping tears from his face. “This next bit is gonna be a _lot_ , and then we’ll be done. You need to stay still, but I want you to let everything else out, okay? Yell, scream, cry, call me names, whatever you need.”

Peter laughed at the thought of calling his sweet guy names, but when Wade brought the switch down on him five times in rapid succession and the burning swelled in his ass again, the thought was suddenly not so silly.

“God- _damn_ -it!” Peter heard himself yell.

“That’s the spirit,” Wade praised even as he raised the switch and brought it back down in five more rapid, sharp strokes.

Peter yelled, swearing at first (and boy howdy were those some words he never ever said out loud) and devolving quickly into incoherent yowls and a litany of _babe_ and _please_ as Wade kept applying groups of rapid stripes to his skin. He didn’t move, and it felt so good to yell and scream, to meet the pain with his own energy, to make sure Wade knew how much he was feeling.

And then, before he really registered it was happening, he started to cry. Not like pretty crying – like little-kid-who’s-lost-their-ice-cream-cone crying. He stopped having to concentrate on not moving because he was paralyzed by sobs wracking his whole body, and realized there were words coming out of him, that he was babbling to Wade that he was sorry.

The pattern of quick, sharp strokes paused for a moment. “Are you very sorry?” Wade asked, a little breathy from effort.

“ _Yes,_ ” Peter said, wetly, “yes sir, I’m _so_ sorry I’ll never do it again I’m sorry _please –“_

Wade was kissing his forehead before he realized he’d moved. “My good boy, my sweet, beautiful Spidey – can you take six more for me?”

For some reason he didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, of course, babe.”

Wade kissed him again. “Can you count them for me, love?”

Peter nodded, his breath hitching.

He did it. Somehow. Wade landed six more strokes with the switch, evenly spaced, and Peter counted them out loud, though his voice shook with tears, and he barely got out “six” before incoherent sobbing took him over again.

And there, in an instant, were big, muscular, warm arms wrapping around him, the weight of his tall, strong man pressing into his side, his rough lips on Peter’s skin, pulling him in. Peter couldn’t even find the energy to return the embrace, just curled into Wade and wept loudly until the tears finally abated, feeling his heart rate slow as he unconsciously matched his breathing to his guy’s.

After a while, Wade pulled back to look at him, greeting him with a sweet smile. “You’re not really sorry you disobeyed me and such – right?”

Peter laughed out loud, his voice thick with tears and snot – _so_ romantic. “No, you – I’m not really sorry.”

“Oh, good,” Wade said, pulling him to his chest again, “because that was _fun.”_

Peter sighed, feeling the all-over sting on his ass and thighs. Then he squirmed a bit – something was missing. “Is there still ginger in my butt?” he asked.

“No,” Wade giggled, “I figured cuddling would be sort of unproductive if it felt like you had napalm in your rectum.”

“Still burns, though,” Peter pouted.

“If you’ll allow me to go below for a moment,” Wade said before deftly sliding down his body.

Peter whined a bit at the loss of cuddle, but the whine quickly turned into a moan as Wade thoroughly cleaned all of the ginger juice out of his ass. With no hands. He was sort of hazy on the next part because he may have spent most of it semi-conscious, but he was pretty sure that Wade turned him on his side and deep-throated him while fingering him – he’d been torn between pushing forward into warm mouth or backwards onto talented, rough digits.

When Peter was able to blink his eyes open post-giant-orgasm, he pawed solicitously at Wade, who was applying healing-goo to his tender skin. “Later, sweet pea,” he said. “When you can feel your ass muscles again, I promise it’ll be my turn.”

Peter had a feeling he was going to spend Boxing Day laying on his stomach, willing his ass muscles to recover to Wade’s standard. There was a chance he was going to start preferring Boxing Day to Xmas.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tomorrow's vignette is Ladies Who Lunch by notlucy, featuring two of my favorite persons in the whole world having a lovely afternoon together. I am setting aside ample time to read it and squee and cry happily!
> 
> Only two more holiday vignettes to go!!!
> 
> Tumble me at crockzilla.tumblr.com and notlucy at notlucy.tumblr.com


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